Chapter 17

"Oi! Albus!" James shouted across the common room to his brother, "Can I talk to you outside?"

Albus shot him a murderous glare, and reluctantly obliged. Albus followed James out of the portrait hole, and down a deserted corridor. James wanted to make sure they were completely alone.

"What do you want?" asked Albus, sourly.

"What did dad say to you, pipsqueak?" replied his brother.

"Strictly confidential business," said Albus haughtily, "For my ears only."

"Don't give me that crap, Albus!" James said, a little louder than he meant to, "He told you something important didn't he!"

"Maybe." replied Albus, slyly. James drew his wand, and pointed it in his brother's face.

"You are going to tell me what dad said to you," said James in a sickeningly smooth, quiet voice, "or I am going to hex you until you won't know you have a dad to share secrets with."

Albus took a step closer to his brother, until their faces were nearly touching, "Try me."

Green eyes met hazel, and neither could look away. Neither could break their stare in fear of being cursed. All it would take was one little move on Albus' part, James could feel the blood pounding in his ears. His blood was boiling, he had waited for this moment for so long, all it would take was one little movement. Suddenly, James felt a wet glob hit him in the eye. Albus had spat at him. He was going to pay.

James flicked his wand quickly, using a spell he had done so many times, it was as easy as taking a step. Albus was hanging in the air, suspended by one foot on an invisible rope, robes upside-down around his head, legs kicking out.

"Let-me-down-you-absolute-git!" he said in slow disorganized breaths.

"I'M A GIT!" James roared at his brother, "I'M A GIT? YOU'RE THE GIT, YOU LITTLE PRAT! ALWAYS SNEAKING AROUND WITH DAD! ALWAYS ACTING LIKE YOU HAVE ONE UP ON ME! YOU THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU HAVE A PROPHESY, YOU'RE SPECIAL LIKE DAD? YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL! YOU'RE AN ARROGANT ARSEHOLE, THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! I CAN'T UNDERSATND HOW DAD CAN'T SEE IT! ITS PLAIN TO EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD!"

"Hey!" Albus began, still upside-down, "Wait? How do you know about the prophesy?"

"I OVERHEARD DAD TALKING TO KINGSLEY ABOUT IT! I KNEW BEFORE YOU DID, JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE GREEN EYES, YOU GET PROTECTION! YOU DON'T NEED PROTECTION! I DO! I'M THE ONE WITH THE CONNECTION TO VOLDEMORT! NOT YOU!"

"Connection to Voldemort?" Albus asked, sounding genuinely interested, "I thought you were just having stupid visions? Not that I believe it of course," he scoffed, "I think you're just jealous of me, 'coz I'm dad's favourite. He doesn't even love you."

That did it. James didn't care that he was in a corridor, he didn't notice that the entire Gryffindor common room had come out to watch him. All he wanted to do was find the worst hex he could think of, and make his little git of a brother pay. He racked his brains… a good hex… not an unforgivable curse, that was too far even for him, not that Albus didn't deserve it…

Suddenly, James shot three spells at once, "Petrificus Totalus! Expelliarmus! Rictusempra!"

And a very odd thing happened. Albus was sent backwards in the air, where he hit a wall and crashed to the ground. He then froze, yet at the same time began to squirm uncontrollably. James ran to the other end of the corridor, after his brother, who appeared to be having some kind of fit.

"Potter!" the shrill voice of Minerva McGonagall echoed through the hall, "Come with me! Madam Pomfrey! See to Albus would you."

She grabbed hold of James' robes, and dragged him to her office. James had the sensation that this had happened far too often recently, and made a mental not to stop it from happening again, as it was not pleasant. He passed the gaggle of Gryffindor students, who were all staring at him, no doubt having seen and heard everything since James had started shouting. At the front of the group were Lotte and Fred, both looking at him with a mixture of disappointment, anger, and utter confusion. James glimpsed Lotte mouthing the word Why? before he turned the corner, and she was lost from sight.

James was yet again sitting in Professor McGonagall's office. He was sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable chair this time, and could fell McGonagall's gaze pressing him into the back of it.

"Potter, I get the feeling that you come to my office far too often." she said bluntly.

"I promise you Professor, its not my fault.. Well it is, but its not like I go looking for trouble! Trouble seems to find me of it's own accord." James said, struggling to keep his voice as even as hers.

McGonagall let a small chuckle escape her lips, "You know, two generations of Potters before you have said that to me. I am beginning to believe that it might just be true. Now, James, tell me what happened between you and your brother."

So James explained everything to her, and he found it pouring out of his mouth like a fountain, unable to reign himself in. He told her every word he spoke, and finished with,

"He said my dad doesn't love me."

McGonagall sighed, "Are you really going to believe every word your twelve year old brother says? Do you really think its true?"

"It is true." said James, "He obviously doesn't love me as much as Albus. Albus is the special one. I'm just the forgotten Potter with the crazy-ass visions." He smiled in spite of himself.

"You know that's not true James! Your dad is just concerned about Albus, he has a destiny that your father is determined he shouldn't fulfil. Albus will be fine, but you'll have a week of detention for those hexes you used."

James smiled at her, and got up to leave.

"Potter, have a biscuit." she said.

"What?" said James incredulously.

"A biscuit, Potter, have one. You've missed lunch."

"No thanks." replied James, coolly.

"Don't be ridiculous!" She pushed the tartan tin on her desk towards him. He took one,

"Thanks." he said grudgingly, before leaving her office, utterly confused.

James' detentions were set to start on Saturday night, meaning he would miss Quidditch practice. He was somewhat annoyed at this, but agreed that it was only fair, he had, after all, hospitalised his brother for two nights. James had received a Howler from his mother, which this time he didn't silence, he took it diffidently. Fred and Lotte weren't speaking to him, too outraged at what he had done, nor was his sister Lily. James felt more alone than he ever had done in his life. Everybody had turned on him, his dad, his mum, his brother, his sister, his teachers, even his friends. I bet Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione never turned their backs on dad, James thought bitterly, I bet they stuck with him. I bet they understood.

"But you're not your father James." That little voice crept into his head, it was high and cold, almost chilling. It sounded oddly familiar, "Your parents have abandoned you by choice. Not because they had too. Your friends have abandoned you for a petty thing, they don't love you like your parents love Albus. No one loves you as much as Albus! He's the Chosen One. The one with the green eyes."

The voice faded. It had appeared to James several times over the last day, hitting him while he was down. It was almost as if someone was out to get him. And he knew someone was, Voldemort, for one thing. He was planting visions in his mind. He had made James a Horcrux, whatever that was.

James coughed loudly, as a cloud of dust hit him in the face. He was cleaning out the library store room for his detention, and by the looks of things, no one had done the same in at least 50 years. There was a thick film of dust covering all of the stacks of books. All apart from one. There was a pile of four books on top of one of the ancient dressers, he picked the book on the top of the pile up, it was entitled Secrets of The Darkest Art. Underneath it, was a book called, Magike Moste Evil. No wonder these books were in the store cupboard, they looked pretty dark, not only that, but they looked seriously old. He opened Secrets of The Darkest Art, and flicked through it casually, when one word stuck out of the page to him like a sore thumb: Horcruxes.

He opened the page fully, and began to read:

Horcruxes; A Summary.

The creation of a Horcrux is both an sinful and complex charge. The maker of a Horcrux must initially rupture their soul, this is done in the murder of a person and/or persons. Once the soul has been relentlessly damaged thus, it will be prepared to create a Horcrux for less than one moon. A Horcrux is an article, which can be most commonplace, in which a wizard can store a part of his soul, therefore rendering him incapable of death. The Horcrux can also be stored within a human being or animal, however this is not suggested as a Horcrux works in the reverse way to a soul. A soul can live without a body, while a Horcrux cannot, therefore upon the death of the human, the Horcrux would die with it.

The Horcrux can also be used to aid return from death. If one dies, but entrusts another with the task of activating their Horcrux, they would be able to return to life. This is a phenomenon which cannot be understood. The spell to create a time-activated Horcrux is as follows:

Horcruxi peperi vicis strennus

The words pounded into James' head like a lead balloon. He was a Horcrux. A piece of Voldemort's soul was inside him, and it was his fault he had returned to life. James slammed the book shut, and stuffed it into his bag, no longer caring about his detention, he sprinted down the hall towards the common room.